The medicinal qualities of the perfect joint

Feeling lucky always, I assumed that chemotherapy would be the piece of cake that some had predicted for me. They said they knew people who were treated with chemotherapy for years and years and meanwhile managed to live a relatively normal life. But by only the fourth cycle of my second round of it, I realised that this wasn’t going to happen in my case. I felt so rotten that it seemed to me that death would have been easier to bear and was probably preferable.

Of course I told myself to get a grip, to put on my metaphorical tin hat and sit it out. No doubt the feeling of being poisoned by novichok or similar would pass eventually. I also reminded myself that chemotherapy was in fact part of my medical treatment, a cure, and that I had a lot to be thankful for. I was warm. I was comfortable.